Vogue
by helookslikearedvine
Summary: When Kurt fails to get into NYADA, he thinks his life is over. That is until his father surprises him and his life takes an unexpected turn.
1. Shocking Revelations

A/N at end

* * *

Chapter 1

_Dear Journal,_

Things didn't go as planned. So what? I still have a lot going for me. Although I never got into NYADA, my school of choice. My only school of choice. Where I belong and oh, boy how stupid had I been? My mind created a B-line to New York, set its sights on NYADA and in true Kurt Hummel fashion sat on that idea with the weight of an elephant and the stubbornness of a mule. I had been warned over and over about the downfalls of only applying to one college; it was wishful thinking. But things had looked good when I aced my audition. And besides, I hadn't been the one to choke; I had no reason to be doubtful that my acceptance letter would be in the mail already.

I still learnt an enormous lesson, though. Even when things are looking up and it seems like you're getting out of homophobic-hell-hole Ohio, the shit can still hit the fan.

* * *

Kurt Hummel, son, brother, friend... NYADA hopeful. It had all sounded so good for Kurt, his life was heading towards New York and flashing lights and theatre and music. But when his supposed acceptance letter came and he opened it, everything had come crashing around his ears and perfectly coiffed hair.

"We are sorry to tell you..."

The only thing Kurt could think was how much he hated that word. 'Sorry' as if that would stop him from crying. 'Sorry' as if that would stop the continuous circle of being proud of Rachel and hating her. 'Sorry' as if that would give him the courage to tell his dad that he'd fallen at the last hurdle.

* * *

"Hummel tires and lube,Burt speaking. How may I help?"

That comforting voice; that's was all Kurt needed to hear to put a stop to the million voices in his head.

"Dad?" Kurt's voice broke a little as he spoke. "I... erm... I got my letter from NYADA."

Kurt heard shuffling on the other side of the line as if Burt had dropped the phone, and he heard the unmistakable "Crap" faintly before Burt picked it up and placed it back to his ear.

"You gonna tell me what it said... or..?" Burt's voice trailed off towards the end and Kurt could almost hear his brain working, cogs tinkling against one another to try piece together the fact that his voice had broken.

"I... I didn't get in, dad. I'm so sorry" Burt could hear Kurt sniffing on the other end of the phone. "You're disappointed; I could have done better. In the audition, I mean. I know I could have. What was I thinking - silver pants? God I feel so stup-" Burt broke Kurt's downwards spiral of self pity.

"Hey! Kurt, no, don't you ever think I'd be disappointed in you. You nailed your audition, kid. That woman must be damn crazy. I'm in the right mind to give her a piece of my mind, right now. You did the best you knew how, and that's more than good enough for me." Burt could hear the sniffing and hiccupping, tell-tale signs that Kurt had been crying. He needed to fix it, and fast.

"Hey, Kurt, it's almost the end of the day and you've finished most of your school work right? How about you make your way home, and I'll meet you there in a little while okay, buddy?" Kurt mumbled something in the affirmative, hung up and did as he was told; he was sick of walking the McKinley hallways with his letter weighing his bag down. He could barely deal with people's pity over the rejection that was practically rolling off him in waves. Kurt drove home in a haze. The sound of his dad taking off his boots stirred him from his reverie. As soon as Burt came through the door he saw Kurt standing there, head hanging in self-pity and disappointment. Burt pulled his son to his chest, squeezing him in a hug. Although all of Kurt's air was being squeezed out of him, hugging his dad still felt like home and tears started spilling out of his eyes once again.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'm not disappointed; I'm angry, and think they're damn crazy for not accepting you. God knows everyone wanted this for you." He pulled back and put his big shovel hands on Kurt's shoulders, turning him towards one of the chairs at the dining table.

"Sit down, bud. I need to talk to you, okay?" He sat down at the kitchen table while Burt rummaged in one of the drawers in the kitchen.

"So, I know you were dead set on going to NYADA. You set your breaks on pretty fast for that one. It was NYADA or nothing, determined in true Hummel style." Kurt could feel his eyebrows knitting together involuntarily; he knew all of this, what was his dad getting at? "I was worried, Kurt. Now, don't get yourself in a tizz-wazz, thinking I didn't believe you could do it." Burt eyed Kurt carefully as he pulled out a big envelope, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement of what he'd warned. Kurt nodded numbly.

"Okay. Here," Burt passed envelope to Kurt, "Go on. Have a look."

Kurt slowly delved his hand inside to feel the contents. He pulled out five different unsealed envelopes, all with different stamps and logos plastered on the front. College logos and stamps. Colleges Kurt had flat-out refused to think about and sure as hell never applied for.

"Dad. Wha-what's... what are these?" It took a lot to make Kurt speechless.

Burt took the envelopes from Kurt's fingers and laid them out on the table in front of him, reminiscent of those horrifying pamphlets Burt had given him after he had accidentally put on one of the 'adult' channels which just happened to be gay when flicking through channels.

"Listen, buddy. When you told me you were only applying to one school, I couldn't let that happen. Don't get me wrong, I had no doubts that you could get into NYADA. You deserve it just as much, hell, or even more than that Berry girl. But, I had to do something about it. I've let you make some pretty bad decisions in your life, but college is on a whole other level to me letting you kiss that Brittany Spears girl when I knew you were gay, or me letting you go to school in a skirt that one time. I couldn't just sit back and let you mess this one up, bud."

Kurt's eyes shone with unshed tears. God, why couldn't he stop crying?

"So a helping hand from Carole and Mercedes, I managed to apply for some stuff for you. I know, I know. What do I know about applications since it's been about a billion years since I applied to college. 'Cause I was born in the Middle Ages or whatever that crap is you always yell at me. But I did it. I mean, Mercedes and some of the other girls at school helped get together your portfolios. They weren't happy about the secrets, I'll tell you that. And Carole helped with the writing part, 'cause you know I ain't too good with words."

Kurt physically couldn't move his tongue to say it, but he thought his dad was just fine with words. Kurt's love for his father threatened to burst his heart open in his chest, and to make Kurt both burst into tears and laugh hysterically. The realisation of how stupid he had been to not apply anywhere else hit him like a train in the NYC subways he sought to roam so eagerly. And the gratitude towards his father just as fast.

He stood up on his wobbly jelly legs and in one big step rounded the table and wrapped his arms around his father's neck, hearing a big 'humph' from Burt at the force behind it. He sobbed into his father's shoulder and clutched onto his plaid trucker shirt, fully appreciating the fact that his father's wardrobe never changed. Not even after Washington.

"I lo-ove you, dad... So much-ch," Kurt mumbled out between sobs. "I don't even kno-ow what t-to say." He unwrapped himself from his dad, snapping his eyes from his father to the five envelopes on the table.

"Just check 'm out. Don't be pissed I opened them, I had to!" Burt said defensively, as if Kurt could even think of getting angry.

Kurt sat down at the table, taking the envelopes in his hands as he watched his father take a seat opposite him. The first in the pile was a blue and white thinly stripped envelope, his name written boldly on the front. The paper felt expensive and when he flipped it over he saw it was wax-sealed with a stamp pressed into the red circle. A logo that was all too familiar for someone who wanted to go to New York. Cornell. He rushed to open it, taking the thick paper out and unfolding it with fast fingers, finding two pieces of paper. He unfolded the first and read;

"Dear Mr. Kurt Hummel,

We are happy to announce that you have been accepted to attend Cornell University, New York City this September to study Performing and Media Arts..."

He unfolded the next one slowly. Cornell University, New York City to study Fashion Design Management... He had been accepted into Cornell; one of the best universities in the United States. Furthermore, he had been accepted for two courses. It struck him, then, that he had been accepted for a fashion based course.

"Dad? Fashion Design Management? How did you even think of this?"

"Kid, I know all that fashion stuff is something your passionate about. And I know how blinkered you get once you set your eye on something; stubborn, like me. Mercedes nabbed some of your best designs and made a portfolio for you." Burt was smiling as Kurt shook his head in disbelief. He had been accepted to study fashion design management. Although Cornell wasn't well known for its fashion program, the fact that he had been accepted without having specifically designed anything for the occasion was incredible.

Kurt opened the next three letters in a rush, discovering he had also been accepted into the drama department and Tisch, Julliard for their drama program and Parsons New School for Design in their Fashion Design program. He was astounded but his surprises weren't finished just yet.

There was one letter left which was different to the others; it bore no logo or writing in explanation of what it was. He looked up at his father as if to ask for confirmation that this one was to be opened, too. Burt just smiled his usual smile and jerked his head forward as if to say 'hurry up'.

Kurt opened the flap of the envelope and pulled out the letter. He began reading. He noticed the logo at the top stating 'Vogue', he even noticed the signature at the bottom right signed Anna Wintour, Editor-in-Chief United States and a signature on the other side signed Emmanuelle Alt, Editor-in-Chief France. He even noticed the words internship, personally shadowing, working side-by-side, Emmanuelle Alt and Paris but the whole picture just wouldn't click. He dropped the letter on the table, and could see his hands shaking in front of him. His father looked at him, something between concern and happiness crossing his face, waiting for Kurt to finally say something.

"Are you kidding me?" Kurt said - his voice even more high-pitched than usual. "I've been invited to... To France for an internship... An internship with Emmanuelle Alt's team there... I was personally recommended by Anna Wintour herself and oh my GOD dad, how has this happened?" Kurt was breathing deeply, eyes wide and bottom lip quivering as he looked up at his father. Kurt picked the letter up again, reading and re-reading in case he had made a mistake, while his father explained himself.

"Well it was the same as Cornell really, kid. Mercedes was skating the web or whatever you kids call it, and found this advert for an internship. She brought it to me and pitched the idea. Damn girl wouldn't let it go until I told her she could apply for you! That girl can be pretty persuasive. Anyway she sent in the portfolio of your best work and the application I filled, and I made contact with that Winter woman, and apparently contacts and networking is really important for this fashion stuff. My contacts with the president kicked forward the process and she made sure you got the consideration you deserved. So there we have it."

Kurt strode over to his father and hugged him, tears gone and replaced with a big ear to ear grin. He pulled back from his father and started bouncing around the kitchen. Internship with French Vogue. Something he never even knew he wanted but something, thanks to Mercedes, he would get to do.

"If you accept the internship, then I've been in contact with all those schools you got accepted into and they'll defer your entry or somethin', so you can go next year." Burt interrupted his train of thought. "You're not missing out on much, other than New York for another ye-"

"But who cares about New York, dad, I'm going to _Paris_!" Kurt cut in, bouncing his way around the kitchen flapping his arms around and giggling. "I need to go call my girls. They're gonna just die when they find out."

* * *

A/N- This is a story I started in the hiatus between season three and four, after we found out Kurt failed to get into NYADA. I didn't like it SO I created an A/U in which Kurt goes off to France and meets special people ;)  
I hope you enjoy this :D  
Tumblr is chloetus. AO3 and LiveJournal is likearedvine (:

If you want to read it in either of those formats, go on over to those other usernames :)


	2. Arriving

A/N  - Helloo again Klainers (:  
This chapter is the second of I'm not sure how many.  
It is still setting up the basis for the rest of the story, but after this things get a little more exciting! (:  
Iffff any of you guys reading are avid fanfic readers and are grammar police then I apologise profusely for the mistakes in chapter 1. I can't promise less of them? But I am indeed looking for a beta THEREFORE it MAY end? (:  
Hope you guys enjoy (:

* * *

_Dear Journal, _

It's funny how much life can change in the matter of an hour. My whole future seemed to flip so many ways so fast, not even Sue Sylvester on speed would have been able to keep up. Although the metaphorical shit - being NYADA - had hit the very big metaphorical fan, everything somehow managed to fix itself. Just in time for the photo opportunity on that massive roller coaster that somehow became my life. I'm going to France to pursue fashion for a year while Rachel goes to New York alone. I'll join her next year, undoubtedly more fashionable, cultured and hopefully with a lot of French clothes in tow. Despite French vogue not being what I expected the next year of my life to be like, after my dreams blowing up in my face I don't think it's that bad of a place to be heading.

* * *

Carole and Kurt stood in the middle of Kurt's semi-packed room. A couple boxes and black garbage bags lay on the floor, some packed and some looking sparse, post-it notes adorning his room in a rainbow of fluorescent colours. Luckily, organisation was something Kurt relished in. He had a week left before he was heading off to France for the next year of his life. His internship was beginning on the 25th of September and he was leaving on the 9th to ensure he had settled before it begun.

He had to organise living arrangements for the year (luckily vogue had considered this and set him up with an apartment near the office). He had to decide on and contact the college he would be attending upon his return to the states. He had to arrange all of the documentation; passport, visa, bank account, insurance, health, doctors, dentists, etc. He had to arrange to have some stuff sent over to his new apartment. He had to start searching for jobs, because funnily enough interns don't get paid. His list was ever-growing, and in between all of that he had to find time to spend with his family and friends. Despite everyone going their own way, no one else was quite going as far as Europe in their bids to leave Lima.

"So let's tick off the things you've done, and then we'll have a better idea of where to start." Carole was holding the clipboard and looked like a lost lamb trying to decipher Kurt's notes. She nodded to herself and began listing things off the list, Kurt replying check or giving a progression update on others.

"So, what I'm seeing as of yet is these boxes are to be sent over for when you arrive, correct?" Carole pointed at a couple of boxes filled with home accessories and utensils to her left and Kurt nodded in confirmation.

"This garbage bag is for good will, and the rest of this stuff is going with you on the plane?" Kurt nodded again, looking around his room once more; ornaments and features all had either a blue or pink post-it; blue for 'you're gone' and pink for 'stay'. No pictures hung around his mirror anymore and it hit him as he searched his room for a photo of his mom and didn't find one what he was actually doing. In a week, he'd be gone and starting an independent life. He grabbed a hold of Carole's hand and pulled it to his chest.

"Thank you for helping me today, Carole. You're a really good mom."

* * *

"Okay, buddy, have you got everything? Your passport, your boarding pass, bank details and receipts just in case anything goes wrong?" Burt listed things off on his fingers, eyes ridden with worry, pride and sadness at his little baby boy literally flying the nest.

"Yes, dad, for the millionth time I've got everything," Kurt tapped his carry-on bag which was flung over his shoulder, "you saw me pack them yourself, remember?"

"Yes. But I'm a parent and a parent's job is to worry. Right. Like I've explained a million times, your bank account has enough cash to get you through the first few months – rent, food, living, but not for clothes, am I clear? You start looking for a job as soon as you get there." Kurt was nodding along with everything his father was saying, rolling his eyes here or there. "You've got that emergency credit card. _Only _for emergencies and I _will _find out if you use it. If you're struggling for cash, call me and I'll wire some over but that doesn't mean you can get away with not getting a job." Kurt smiled but shook his head; he was going to be late if his dad didn't shut up and let him through.

"Don't do anything foolish, bud. Okay? You can't just call me on the garage number and expect me to come pick you up. It's not school. Don't mess around with guys. I know you've not had a boyfriend, and –you know, whatever – so don't get hurt. And don't buy too much crap. You're exactly like your mom, junk just finds you. Be good and responsible – I don't wanna hear about you breaking any bones or anything. If you get a car, be careful, you can't just come to the shop if someone goes throwing a brick through your dash again... Er...What else?" Kurt took that opportunity to shut his dad up and pull him into a big Hummel hug, his father finally relenting and slouching into the hug. "You sure you'll be alright, buddy ?" Burt whispered into Kurt's ear.

"I'll be great dad." Kurt whispered back before letting go and turning to hug Carole. He wrapped his arms around her neck, squeezing her to his chest and not wanting to let her go. Although no one could replace his mother, Carole had most definitely filled an empty space in his life and was a motherly figure he needed. It was a big weight off his shoulders to know Carole was there to look after Burt; he wouldn't have been able to take this opportunity without her.

"Thank you, Carole, for being amazing these past couple of months and for taking care of my dad." When Carole pulled back, tears were streaming down her face silently. She stroked his cheek, tilted his head down and kissed his forehead. Finn was last; they had had their ups and downs, fought like cat and dog, danced together and even snuggled watching the Sound of Music that one time... It took them time to get to the stage in which they were at right now, but it had been worth it. In the past couple of years, their relationship had changed from bully and victim to friends and brothers.

"Don't cry Finn, your giant-sized tears could drown someone." Kurt said before giving his brother a hug. Finn giggle-sobbed into Kurt's shoulder and the shudders emitting from his body shocked Kurt. Not even his dad had cried... yet.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, man. I'm just... I'm going to miss you. As much as you piss me off when you don't let me eat Doritos or those cookies you make, I'm gonna really miss you man. I've had to say way too many goodbyes and you're going to like, Europe. You're so lucky you don't have a boyfriend, man... It'd kill you to have to say goodbye to him and then your brother_ too._" Finn squeezed Kurt one more time and patted him on the shoulder, probably making him stand wonkily for the rest of his life.

"Okay guys. This is it. If I don't go now I'll turn around and walk straight back home." He hugged and kissed Carole on the cheek one last time, gave Finn the pleasure of a 'bro-hug' and squeezed his dad one last time. "I love you all; I'll call all the time, write and send you fabulous fashion, Carole." Kurt winked at his step-mom as he slowly backed away, not wanting to turn away from his family. Once he had turned away, he wouldn't let himself turn back. He couldn't. If he prolonged the process it'd only hurt more. They said their final goodbyes, Burt telling Kurt to enjoy himself more than anything and that he was proud of him.

Although he knew this was the right thing for him, it didn't mean it was the easiest. Frankly, it was damn scary and daunting to be moving to Europe. Not having his support system so close could either make him crumble, or make him stronger. And Kurt Hummel was nothing if not stubborn.

He was going to France.

* * *

Kurt had landed in Paris jet-lagged to hell but after an undisturbed yet frantic flight; was he doing the right thing? Had he forgotten anything? Oh god, what if he had forgotten underwear or something stupid like that? Once he departed the airport, he called a cab to the address of his new apartment, taking in the scenery as he went. Nerves and excitement pumped through his body as the cab-driver pulled up to a tall, dated looking building. His apartment was on a pretty quiet looking street, half an hour walking distance from his office meaning half an hour from the centre of Paris.

The building was of old architecture, typical of what he had imagined for a French apartment building. His landlord was waiting at the door, one hand on her hip, keys jangling in her other. She was a short thirty-something-year-old woman with dark brown curly hair, pink and purple at the ends, and seemed to be a free-spirit.

"Salut! Kurt Hummel?" She said. Her voice was thick with a French accent. "My name is Joséphine, but you can call me Fifi. Here are your keys; you have one spare but if you lose them both you pay. Let me take you up to the apartment." Fifi took one of Kurt's bags from the car trunk without saying anything, dragged it up the front steps into the lobby and into the already open elevator.

"Okay, your apartment is on floor quatre...I mean four. You only use one key; it opens the main door and your apartme- aah, were here!" The elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing a clean and tidy looking hallway with one door; number 9.

"Okay. Here we are," Fifi opened the door to Kurt's new home. "Home sweet home, oui?" She smiled as she led him into the room. "Here we have the kitchen/diner and lounge area. Here are the boxes you got sent over, and the apartment is fully furnished." Kurt looked around and liked what he saw; the walls were painted a neutral light tone, utilizing the natural light coming from a tall window across from the door. The kitchen was separated from the lounge area by an island and everything looked new, modern and clean. Fifi led him to a door to the right of the entrance, opening it to reveal his bedroom which was also neutral, furnished with a double bed and two alcoves which had been utilized by creating two large closets. Obviously Kurt approved.

"This is where the, uhh, what you call the magic happens, oui?" Fifi said with a cheeky glint in her eyes, earning a giggle from Kurt.

She led Kurt into the room, indicated a door on the right into an en-suite bathroom with a freestanding, roll top bathtub to Kurt's surprise. The bathroom was painted blue and he couldn't wait to personalise the place. They both went back out into the living area where they could discuss the finer details.

"As you know, rent goes out every month. If you're late you'll be charged extra and the later you are, the more you pay. Uh... All of my contact details are by the phone, along with a tenant handbook with explanations and instructions. You know... rules, the boring shit. I put a few maps and tourist information in the handbook for you, 'cause I know you're an American man, so _will _lose your way." She smiled before finally taking the keys out of her pocket once again. "Okay, there you go. I think I'm done, call me if you need anything, chéri. Have fun unpacking." She tossed Kurt the keys, spun around on her platform stilettos, bid Kurt au revoir and bounced out of the apartment.

The exit of her flamboyancy only succeeded in accentuating the silence in his new home. He was alone. He leaned against the door Fifi had just left through. He shook himself then stood tall; he was Kurt Hummel and he could do this. First; unpacking, then he could worry about everything else later. He dragged his suitcases through to his new bedroom; his clothes had suffered enough.

* * *

Reviews are appreciated _


End file.
